Such A Clever Boy
by Till-Owlyglass
Summary: Effie told herself that it was all worth it. That everything she did took her one step closer to her clever boy from the Seam. Slight Effie/Haymitch. Mostly unrequited. Oneshot.


**Such A Clever Boy**

Effie Trinket was fourteen years old when she decided that she wanted to be an escort to the tributes of The Hunger Games when she grew up. The idea had been rattling around in her head for a couple of years but it was after watching the Second Quarter Quell that she truly made up her mind. Of course, her mother initially tried to convince her daughter to change her mind, didn't she know how many young Capitol men and women aspired to work for the Games? How many hearts were broken when they realised their dreams were all in vain? But Mrs. Trinket would have had more luck in forcing the Sun to orbit the Earth, for her daughter could not be dissuaded. Effie's aspiration was concrete, concrete because secretly she was working towards another goal and becoming an escort was her first step to attaining the thing which she desired most - at least, that was the way Effie saw it.

The thing which had prompted Effie's sudden decision was not a thing at all. But a person. A person her parents certainly disapproved of. Haymitch Abernathy. The District 12 victor of the Second Quarter Quell.

From the first moment she laid eyes upon him when his name was called at the Reaping, Effie knew that there was something special about this boy. Something which intrigued her. With his tall, athletic physique, thick black curls and brooding grey eyes, Haymitch Abernathy seemed almost a different species entirely to the finicky, colourful boys of The Capitol. He was all sharp angles and straight lines, from his sly smirk to his tapered waist, his long fingers to his pointed white canines. Effie Trinket was enchanted and watched the Games that year like one possessed; had her parents been paying closer attention, they might have seen how their daughter's eyes lit up when the District 12 tributes appeared at the Tribute Parade, how she smiled smugly to herself when the Abernathy boy was given a respectable training score of 7 - surely they noticed how Effie laughed a little too enthusiastically at the arrogant responses the boy gave during his interview with Caesar Flickerman? No, they didn't notice a thing, not even when besotted little Effie started squirreling away any extra pocket money she had to throw into the pot of sponsor money for the intriguing boy from the District 12 slums.

As the Games began and the weeks progressed, Effie Trinket developed the unattractive habit of biting her nails. Every day she watched the Games without fail, biting her nails down to the quick as Haymitch fought the three Careers in the wood, biting them until they bled as he fought the girl from District 1. Just when all seemed lost, when the girl threw the axe and Effie's tears threatened to overflow, Haymitch dropped to his knees, the axe sailed over his head and off the end of the cliff only to be thrown back and embed itself into the skull of the Career. Now Effie understood his laugh of pure delight when that big rock from earlier had flown straight back into his hand. Oh, he is clever! Isn't he a clever boy?

In that moment Effie Trinket made the decision of her life: she would stop at nothing to be near handsome, intriguing, clever Haymitch Abernathy. And the easiest way to do that was to become an escort for The Hunger Games. Only it _wouldn't_ be easy - not at all really, the competition was fierce as hundreds of Capitol citizens vied for positions as escorts every year. Only the very best were chosen, the most charming, the best to cope under pressure, the most likeable. Only absolute perfection was accepted - they were, after all, the Capitol's ambassadors in the Districts.

And so Effie Trinket set about reinventing herself as the perfect Capitol cover-girl. She taught herself how to walk in stilettos, tottering about precariously in the thin high heels until she finally got the knack. Spent a small fortune on fashion magazines. Devoted hour after hour to doing her makeup until she had it just right. Was on constant vigil making sure her impeccable manners never once slipped. Avidly watched the Games every time they came around, and all the past games too, studiously taking notes on every little aspect - and ultimately destroying three tapes of the Second Quarter Quell as she watched it so often. She never quite got out of the habit of biting her nails, though, and had to settle for having false ones fitted every couple of weeks.

Every time her feet ached and her blisters bled, every time harsh chemicals stung her eyes and gritty lotions scratched her skin, every time she ignored her rumbling stomach and, like a dainty little bird, picked at small amounts of food, Effie told herself that it was all worth it. That everything she did took her one step closer to her clever boy from the Seam.

* * *

Night-time. Haymitch sits on the sofa in the penthouse, nursing an empty bottle. Once this bottle was full - not of the dangerous strong stuff from District 12 which burns as it goes down - the good stuff from the Capitol which isn't half as effective as the burning stuff and so Haymitch always ended up drinking twice as much. His bloodshot eyes gazed blearily up at the television screen, not really seeing anything at all.

Effie came tottering in at that moment, "There you are. Shouldn't you be talking to Sponsors? I can't do all the work myself. I managed to get Barnabas Prewitt to place a _very _generous donation…Haymitch! You're drinking!"

"Not anymore." Haymitch retorted, turning the empty bottle upside down to show her that it was, in fact, devoid of alcohol.

"You drank the _whole _bottle? You promised you would stay sober this time. You _promised_…" Effie wobbled over to stand behind him, hands on hips, she positively shook with anger.

To say that Effie Trinket was disillusioned by Haymitch Abernathy would be a vast understatement. After working relentlessly for years until she was good enough to even just be considered for the role of an escort, Effie was chosen to be apprentice to Annora Aldwinkle, the then escort for District 12 and the same woman who had pulled out Haymitch's name at the Reaping for the Second Quarter Quell. While most apprentices would have been distraught with being assigned to an outer district, Effie rejoiced. All those years she had kept an eye on her clever boy from the Seam, watched as he sunk into depression and turned to drink, as the straight lines and sharp angles of his body gradually disappeared as he bloated from the alcohol, listened as citizens of the Capitol laughed together and speculated what Haymitch Abernathy was going to do _this _year to embarrass himself. When Annora Aldwinkle retired, Effie stepped up to take her place and finally, at long last she met Haymitch Abernathy face to face at the Reapings for the 68th Annual Hunger Games. _That's _when her dreams were shattered.

But sometimes - just sometimes - when Haymitch was dragged out to do the rare interview, Effie would catch a glimpse of the young handsome boy he used to be; a brief dangerous flash of steel in those grey eyes, or a particular way he smirked, or perhaps he would come out with some sarcastic comment which would remind her of that infamous "_I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred per cent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same_". Yes, the boy was still there.

She was just about to open her mouth again and start lecturing him when something caught her eye on the television screen. Katniss and Peeta. Since the entire Capitol had fallen hard for the star-crossed lovers story, the Gamemakers were showing an almost constant stream of the young couple. Apparently Brutus and Enobaria were furious that the tributes from District 2 weren't getting half as much screen time as the pair from District 12. Now, said lovers were sheltering in a hidden cave and asleep, Katniss with her head resting against Peeta's chest while he held her in his arms, looking as though he would not let go for all the world. Despite how blissful the scene looked, Effie could tell that all was not well: Peeta was running a fever and shaking due to the wound on his leg, and Katniss looked pale and undernourished, she hadn't been able to hunt because she was spending all of her time taking care of the sickly boy.

Effie felt a rush of tenderness for the drunk sitting with his back to her on the sofa before her. Despite the fact there was very little he could do to help them, Haymitch couldn't help but watch over them as they slept, just as a concerned and devoted father would do for his own children.

Slowly, unsurely, she placed her hand upon his shoulder. Haymitch tensed for a split second then relaxed again. Effie leant over and gently pulled the empty bottle from his hands.

"Don't need you to mother me." Haymitch muttered half-heartedly.

"No, of course not. But," Effie bit her lip, she felt suddenly very shy, like a fourteen year old girl, and her mouth was dry and scratchy, "I…I have cared for you for a very long time, Haymitch." she finally croaked.

Haymitch raised a hand and placed it over hers on his shoulder, giving it a gentle comforting squeeze, "I know, sweetheart, I know."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Just something I have had in my head for a while. Because, after all, Katniss admits that Haymitch used to be "something of a looker". Hope you enjoyed it!**


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